


How do you know you're in love?

by spiritscript



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Idiots, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25593535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritscript/pseuds/spiritscript
Summary: “So, how did you know you were in love? How did it feel?” Atsumu felt nervous asking this, a slight wiggling in the pit of his stomach, unable to look at the man beside him who rolled his shoulders in an attempt to reset his posture. “I mean, you didn’t resonate with what I said, so, what is love to you Omi-kun?”Atsumu thinks he must be in love with Hinata Shouyou and so asks the best person he knows to help him understand his feelings
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 36
Kudos: 442
Collections: So beautiful It makes me want to cry





	1. Atsumu

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything other than academic papers in like 5 years and I should be writing a dissertation rn so all critcism would be appreciated cos then this won't feel like as much of a waste of time/procrastination
> 
> P.S I avoided doing Atsumu's accent cos i just couldn't and it didn't feel right to me so... soz

Atsumu’s foot seemed to land heavier than usual on the slightly damp pavement outside the apartment complex. It wasn’t cold, but he felt his body tremble and began walking. In a daze he continued until he realised that his feet had brought him, not where he needed to go, but wanted to. Hands still in his pockets, he shouldered the wooden door open and took a seat at the bar. When he was near the end of his second drink, he pulled out his phone and started typing

**Hey. Could you come meet me? [Location sent]**

A couple of minutes later, his phone buzzed back.

**It’s a weeknight.**

**I know but please Kiyoomi?**

He closed his eyes and left them as such for a few extra moments after his phone buzzed again. Finishing his whisky, he turned over the phone and looked at the screen.

**Fine.**

Miya Atsumu did not need pity or coddling. He could have called his twin, but despite the familial hatred they harboured for each other, he knew that every insult Osamu threw at him would be done out of love and affection because if he was met with genuine expressed worry, then clearly something wouldn't be right with Samu. What he needed was someone who wouldn’t mince their words and give him exactly what he needed; the pure unbridled truth. He didn't want or need babied, didn’t want to hear, ‘it’s fine it’ll get better’ he wanted the truth.

“Excuse me,” he called to the bartender closest. She couldn’t have been much younger than him, with full lips, a singular nose stud, short choppy hair and a scattering of tattoos on her left arm, exactly the type of girl he used to love have break his heart. “My friend is coming and he’s a bit of a major germaphobe, is it okay if he uses his own cup and drink measure? I know it’s extreme and seems kind of rude but… he’ll also sanitize his seat and the bar.” She smiled a genuine smile that didn’t seem to match the idea Atsumu had built of her in his head, and insisted it would be fine; so he ordered another drink, gave her an extra tip, and explained everything she would need to know about serving Sakusa.

× × ×

That evening Hinata had unexpectedly shown up at his apartment door, a strange look on his perpetually smiling face. Usually Hinata, even on the volleyball court, had a consistent curl to his lips, ready to stretch into an all consuming grin, now the focus and confliction on his face betrayed the fact that this man ever smiled.

Atsumu had opened the door after quickly pulling on a pair of tracksuit bottoms lying on the floor, not that he had a problem with anyone seeing him like that, but just in case it was someone who he knew would rather not. He had barely opened the door when the younger man spluttered, "I-I think I’m in love with Tobio."

Those simple words untethered something that had lived deep within the chasms of Atsumu's stomach, hidden and brooding but sickeningly familiar. It was a feeling Atsumu had come to associate with pain and hurt, even when it flickered and twirled, it was horrible and writing and teasing. This time it seeped from the safe depths of every crevice in his being, constricting his chest before contracting once again, to nestle in his stomach like a lump of sticky tar. But Atsumu was used to nonchalance and hiding any emotions he ever had, instead flashing his trademark pearly white grin.

"Wow, and you’re only realising this now?" And laughed at the flicker of confusion across Hinata’s face, because it had been evident to Atsumu since before he had even met the boy. The way Tobio set that ball in youth camp, with nothing but pure trust, care, and confidence. Spring Nationals in his second year playing against them and Hinata had jumped with all the same assurance Tobio had set the ball. Of course he hadn’t at the time understood that it was love until later. Looking back now, with the dead weight in his stomach, he realised how he must have been doing the same thing. That he must be in love with the exact same man.

× × ×

He considered the exact moment it must have happened, when this sick, sticky feeling had first seeped into his consciousness. It had been a long rally, his team were dug as if a body was to be buried deep inside them, they were scattered and broken, and his body ached. He'd had to dive outside of the court in a reckless move that would have the physical therapist ready to beat him into a concussion with the back of her clipboard. He almost slipped trying to get back up when a blurry face on the other team spiked a thunderbolt right down the centre of the court. He was ready to run after it before a clear, familiar voice cut through the static and murkiness around him, "Fuck off Miya," before the ball thundered against his long, straight, pale arms, sending the ball straight up in a gentle arc, "Reset Miya," Sakusa yelled then, and Miya would have known where the ball was going to fall without having to watch. He found his spot, steadied himself, and he saw a smaller orange blur begin to run, and he knew exactly what to do. His peripheral followed the colour, "Sho-kun!" The last syllable barely formed before the ball was at the other man’s palm, being slammed into the opposite court. When the whistle blew he ruffled the smaller man's hair before receiving a smack to the back of his own head.

"Stop being a reckless idiot Miya."

And that was when the visceral trickle of feeling had first dripped from his heart to its eventual home.

× × ×

They ended up ordering ice cream because that’s what the teenage movies prescribed for such instances and, sitting in Atsumu’s studio apartment, the two men silently nibbled at their respective ice-creams. Some sitcom played in the background as Atsumu picked at the ice cream surrounding a brownie chuck. Hinata was lying with his head hanging off the couch, legs propped up against the back of the it, Atsumu was sitting with one leg propped up and the other tucked under him, his favourite blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he watched the boy attempt to eat his ice cream which was sitting on the floor beside his head. Not much had been said, neither sure how to broach the subject.

“Shokun,” he needed to know, “how do you know you’re in love?”

Hinata continued to stare at the ceiling a moment. “It’s funny because I’ve always cared about Kageyama, I’ve always missed him, I’ve always wanted what’s best for him, and yet- and yet it’s so much more. It feels like it’s a part of me that I can’t remove it. It… the thought that I don’t love him just seems… wrong.” His nose wrinkled at that last part. “It. It feels right, it's a rushing through my system at the thought of seeing him and it... I was thinking about him when it just hit me. Now that I’ve noticed it I don’t know how I didn’t before.”

Atsumu remained silent and thought to himself for a moment while Hinata studied his face. Atsumu just thought on the words Hinata said, but he couldn’t say what it felt like to love himself because right now there was a feeling of not right when he looked at the man in front of him. The only love he had known was chaotic and fleeting and consuming, so this, not telling him, allowing himself to be destroyed for the happiness of another was love for him. There was a reason he had a preference for casual experiences so far in his life. The small man swung his legs down, straightening himself into a sitting position on the couch, opening his mouth once, twice, before scowling. “Now that I've realized it, I.. I can’t imagine not knowing. I know I can’t describe it but I want to. Even if it’s really badly. I want to talk about him, I want to explain the thrum in my body when I see him and even hear about him. I want to… I just want to say that I love him. Completely because there’s no other way to describe it.” He stopped blinking a little dumbfounded for a moment before groaning, “I love Tobio Kageyama and I can't express how I know or why it’s him but fuck sake,” He dug his palms into his eye sockets and collapsed back into the cushions behind him, “he’s so socially and emotionally stunted sometimes. How the hell would I tell him?”

Atsumu stood up putting the lid back on his tub of ice cream, “I don’t know.”

× × ×

Hinata had left not long after that, stating he needed to sleep and let it all process a little bit more, so Atsumu changed into a pair of jeans and now found himself in a bar waiting on Sakusa Kiyoomi to show up and tell him he’s a fucking idiot. Sakusa had joined the team just a couple of weeks before Hinata, having been scouted from college. He had known the man for a number of years prior to his joining the team from various training camps, national tournaments, and playing his college team. When they had become friends though, he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“What do you want Miya?”

He turned, a grin spreading across his face because he knew the exact expression that would be on the dark haired man's face. Possibly due to him always wearing a mask, Sakusa’s forehead had adapted to convey a number of emotions very few people could be able to accomplish on such a small canvas.

“Omi-Ku-!”

“Shuttup and talk,” He cut him off, looking distastefully at the bar and stool beside Atsumu.

“Don’t worry, I told the bartender about your little quirks so you don’t have to worry about that conversation,” Sakusa’s expression softened slightly and he pulled out the small travel sized spray and cloth from his pocket before he started cleaning the area around him. Finishing off with three counter clockwise wipes like always, before folding the cloth and dropping it into a clear sandwich bag that he then put into a black backpack he had with him. As soon as he’d finished, the pretty bartender returned with a small smile and expression that asked, _this your friend then?_ Atsumu nodded and she turned to Sakusa, “Do you want a drink?” He looked at Atsumu with an expression that asked _Do I?_ Atsumu only nodded curtly before Saksusa sighed heavily, his mask puffing out slightly.

“Gin and tonic please,” he muttered as he pulled out the little plastic collapsible cup from his bag and an alcohol measure.

“Coming right up. Is it okay if I touch the measure if I’m using a napkin?” Sakusa nodded appreciating the amount of detail Atsumu must have gone through for the bartender to be so accommodating.

“Now spill. We have training at 8 in the morning,” always straight to the point. Sakusa was glaring at him, hands still deep in his jacket pockets.

“Sho-kun told me he’s in love with Kageyama.”

There was a moment of silence before the bartender returned and Sakusa watched as she poured his alcohol and handed him the tin of tonic water so he could disinfect and pour it himself, “Put it on this losers tab.” He told her before removing his mask and taking a drink. Then he turned to Atsumu and simply said, “and what the fuck does that have to do with us being in a bar right now?”

“Omi Omi language! You’ll need to disinfect your mouth after that!” Atsmu tried to deflect.

“Cut the shit Miya. Like hell if I’m going to let you waste my time.”

To anyone else, this could be considered rude, but Atsumu knew from experience that this was Sakusa’s way of securing all exits because if Atsumu was good at anything, it was contorting his way out of awkward and uncomfortable situations. He had treated him the same way when Atsumu tried to avoid the dentist or noticed he hadn’t stretched properly. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, “I - I think I’m in love with Shouyou and it hurts,” his voice turned weak at the end and he heard Omi exhale beside him.

“So I’m here to…?” There was a funny strain to Sakusa’s voice, one Atsumu hadn’t heard before. It’s not like they hadn’t talked about personal issues before, but I suppose they hadn’t talked about love before.

“Tell me I’m an idiot.”

“If you wanted mindless insults you’d have called your brother,” Atsumu stayed silent a moment, “I suppose I understand the appeal. I think everyone’s been a little infatuated with him at some point or another, in some way or other.” Kiyoomi pulled a hand out of his pocket and gave a slight wave at the bartender and held up two fingers for two more drinks. “Do you ever think he felt the same?”

× × ×

Miya Atsumu’s first memory of Shouyou Hinata joining their team was the flat, enunciated “Nope” that came from over his shoulder as the man of the hour and Bokuto bounced onto the court laughing and talking before Bokuto was lifting the smaller man into the air, even though he knew for a fact that Bokuto and Hinata had met a number of times since the latter had returned from a two year stint playing beach volleyball in Rio. Atsumu turned to see that Sakusa had sidled up as close to him as Sakusa tended to get without scowling. Within the word held a multitude of expressions; _I do not want to deal with this right now, I do not want to deal with this in the future, that is too much enthusiasm, how will I deal, how horrible would it be to be picked up like that, Bokuto was enough, what if they’re enthusiasm is multiplied not just added, we are supposed to be a professional team, just...why?_ Atsumu beamed a grin at him because annoying and watching this man squirm elicited a peculiar joy within Atsumu.

“Ach Omi Omi, and here I was going to pick up up bridal- wait” he laughed as the taller man had started to walk away.

“I’m retiring.” He called back without turning around. Atsumu chased after him and stopped in front of him.

“You haven’t even started your professional career though.”

“I don’t care.” He attempted to start walking again and Atsumu threw his arms wide and hunched slightly.

“What are you-” Atsumu started to walk towards him causing Sakusa to step back and slight realisation dawning on his face. “No. No I am not a sheep.”

“Bokkun, Shokun, help me shepard Sakusa onto the court would you?”

× × ×

“No.”

The bartender returned and started pouring out their drinks before asking if they needed anything else. “No thank you,” Sakusa said with a smile before turning his attention back to Atsumu, “What makes you think you love him then?”

Atsumu scowled at the question, annoyed. “What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t get annoyed at me because I’m trying to understand the situation. You’re both my teammates and… friends” he hesitated a little before the last word, “and I don’t need this ruining the good run we’re having again this season. I understand what it feels like to love someone and not have it returned, so I need to understand how exactly you feel to be able to help.”

Atsumu blinked twice, “Well colour me shocked pikachu face, Omi Omi Kun has been in love?” he batted his eyelids a few times for emphasis.

“Don’t do that. I am capable of feeling so of course I’ve had feelings for someone at some point in my life.”

“And here I thought all that hand sanitizer had seeped into your bloodstream, sterilizing your heart,” Sakusa opened his mouth to answer, “I know, I know you’d be dead if that could even possibly happen.” Atsumu waved a hand to swat away the non verbal retort from him. “They must be some person to have managed to win your affections.”

Sakusa snorted conspiratorially, “That’s one way of putting it. Now answer my question.”

Atsumu looked at the amber liquid in his glass and swirled it a few times, this would have to be his last one if he wanted to survive practise tomorrow as he could feel the heat in his cheeks and lightness in his body. “It’s consuming. In love, I want to be consumed by them. It’s a fire and it hurts. You want nothing but their happiness, not even for yourself but for them. I want to be consumed. I, I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Sakusa eyebrows flitted a little, clearly considering every word Atsumu had said, dissecting the meaning behind every single syllable and chosen word. “Did you ever think he would love you back?” he was studying Atsumu intensely, but that wasn’t anything new.

“Wow, well I’d like to think so, I’m not as terrible as peopl-”

“That’s not what I meant,” the dark haired man cut him off.

“How else could you have meant it?”

“I mean, do you really love with him, or did you infatuate yourself with someone you knew couldn’t love you back because you’re a self destructive asshole that equates love and success to pain?”

× × ×

Not long after Sakusa had been scouted, a younger setter had also been scouted for second string. He wasn’t anyone Atsumu knew of, but that hadn’t stopped him from watching and scrutinizing him intently all the same. Atsumu was clearly the more experienced, daring, and all round better setter and player, but a few weeks later, just after Hinata joined, Atsumu was benched for a practise game in favour of the younger man. He knew deep down that this was only a practise game, and the coaches wanted the chance to see how the setter could perform with the team, should he be needed. Atsumu wasn’t the only starter that was benched for that match, so had Barnes for Hinata, but he couldn’t help feeling panicked, especially after Sakusa pulled off a killer receive that flowed into a perfect back row set and score early in the first set. This unnerved Atsumu, most notably because Skausa definitely did not sync up with new setters that easily. Sakusa was calculating and careful in everything he did, and this often manifested in what looked like a lack of trust between him and his team mates, but this was especially noticeable in sets because they were so reliant on timing. A breath too long and it was easily dug or simply a missed spike. After it, the young man lit up and Sakusa smiled faintly at this, an action that wasn't done for the setter; Sakusa never did anything he didn’t want or have reason to. His stomach did a slow turn. 

That night, Atsumu spent hours training by himself, and at training the next day he may have been too distracted and a little too tired to properly do his warm up stretches, and so during their training match, something pulled funny in his shoulder, but he couldn’t tell the coach. He continued to set the ball pretty well, but not with as much finesse as he usually prided himself on. Upon training finishing, and as the adrenaline wore off, he was in agonising pain, his right shoulder throbbing close to his neck, but he didn’t say anything until he was leaving and nearly ran into Sakusa who was standing in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” The taller man asked, sounding almost exasperated. Atsumu tried to laugh it off with a ‘nothing nothing you’re just paranoid’ but really he just wanted to get home and put a hot water bottle on it.

“Atsumu.” He stiffened at the sound of his given name. He knew he wasn’t getting away with trying to hide it, so he told him. “You reckless fool, I swear I don’t know how you’re brother didn’t strangle you in the womb.”

× × ×

Sakusa and Osamu ended up developing quite the unconventional friendship, built upon a solid foundation of insulting and mocking Atsumu. Sometimes Osamu would send him a picture he’d received from Sakusa after a particularly embarrassing or messy moment. He also knew, but had yet to get a confession from either of them, that the childhood photo of him pulling a blue steel at the age of six, shirtless with a pair of sunglasses and a hot pink guitar while doing what looked like an attempt at splits in his back garden, that was still plastered all over the team changing room, and eventually made itself onto the MSBY Twitter account, was a tag team effort from those two sadists. He hated it. Of course they had met a number of times through volleyball in high school, and even then they seemed to be able to interact as amicably as Sakusa was able to, and by that, there wasn’t a constant line of pain between his eyebrows when speaking to him. They had even interacted a little after Sakusa had joined the team, but they first really started to hit it off maybe 3 months into Sakusa’s first season with them. They were lying in a circle going through static stretches at the end of a particularly long session. Usually this was done individually, but Meian was insistent that he made sure they stretched properly, there had been a number of muscle issues in other teams and he went into paranoid parent mode. It was mostly silent, so Atsumu did what he did best; broke it.

“So, would fucking your clone be considered incest or masturbation?” he couldn't see anyone's face, but the collective groan he received was enough to tell him exactly what their faces looked like.

“Atsumu-san, no. Stop.” Meian half heartedly scolded, knowing it wouldn't work as they shifted into their next stretch.

“Either way it would be kinky,” Adriah added helpfully, and Atsumu imagined watching Meian’s soul float through the roof, to perch there and manifest a cold beer. There were a few grumbles and Bokuto’s laugh echoed through the hall, followed by Hinata’s tinkling one before, “You’re an identical twin Miya.” Which prompted even a laugh from Meian probably more from surprise, because it had come from Sakusa. Atsumu’s head whipped up to see the man stretching on the ground a few feet away from him, “I mean identic-”

“No”

“-al twins are-”

“Stop”

“Pretty much cl-”

“Please”

“-ones considering they-”

“Omi-kun”

“-are a result o-”

Whine

“-f the same fertilized e-”

“Omiiiii!”

“-gg splitting in two-”

“Meian stop him”

“-so the biological make-up-”

“Meian please”

“-is the same, so technically you-”

“No!” Atsumu scrambled to his feet, eyes closed pushing his palms together and bowing his head in Sakusa’s direction. The only sounds were the snickers of the rest of the team around them.

“-You’re in the closest position to any of us to be able to sleep with your clone.” He finished the sentence in such a level tone, that Atsumu knew his soul had joined Meian’s on the roof. At least he hoped it was enjoying itself.

“Omi-kun you’re a sick bastard.”

“Oi, get back to stretching Miya!” Meian laughed at him, and Atsumu sunk back into position.

“We’re nothing alike though,” Atsumu sulked a few minutes later.

“That’s true,” agreed Bokuto, “Osamu-san is a far better cook.”

“Quieter too,” mumbled Meian who had met Osamu a number of times at nights out and after matches.

“Doesn’t matter, cooking is a learned skill and personality is an expression of the specific socialisation of a given person. Although there can be some genetic factors such as mental illnesses that can affect its development. At the end of the day-” Sakusa started reciting in his trademark monotone that made it almost impossible to distinguish a joke from a fact because the way Sakusa delivers his most comedic lines are always so flawlessly lifeless that it takes a moment before you can laugh.

“Okay we get it Mr. ‘I went to university,’ but I’m talking about a direct copy of you, personality and all,” Atsumu tried to regain control of the conversation because he was not going to let Sakusa run away with this.

“Impossible,” the other man scoffed.

“We’re talking about clones, it’s a hypothetical it doesn’t have to be scientific,” the petulance was now clear in his voice.

“But we just established that-”

“Fine! Conversation over. It would be incest and it would be the worst thing on this planet or any other. You win with all your reason and technicalities and literalisms, now please stop,” he feigned a sob for emphasis.

After practise, Sakusa had walked back to the changing room with him, “How is Osamu?” he asked after a minute.

“Fine,” Atsumu grumbled, “as annoying as ever. He’s opening a shop in Tokyo soon.”

“Good for him. Is the food actually good or are you biased considering your his clo-... Twin.” Atsumu scowled deeper at the deliberateness of Sakusa, he had planned that, Atsumu knew because his voice, though always deadpan, was more so than usual.

“I’m going there now if you want to come,” Atsumu sighed. He was never going to win, but he hadn’t accounted for how well those two would bond over a hatred of him.

× × ×

“I don’t see how that wording is in any way better.” Atsumu scowled, tempted to maybe keep drinking after this glass, but truthfully he knew Sakusa wouldn’t let him.

“I mean anyone within a ten mile radius of either Shouyou or Tobio knows the two obliviously dim idiots have been in love with each other for the past 7 years,” Sakusa reported like he was reading the definition of an idiot from a dictionary.

“I don’t see how knowing he was in love with someone else could have stopped me from falling for him, I mean you said you know what it’s like to have feelings for someone, you must know that you can’t help how you feel even if you know better.”

The taller man sighed, his shoulders hunching a bit as he did so. “It’s just… that to me, that doesn’t sound like love, and truthfully I don’t see it.” If it wasn’t for the odd softness in his voice Atsumu might have gotten angry at that response.

“Is there a right way to fall or be in love?” Atsumu asked after a slightly stretched silence.

“No.” another moment, “I guess not.”

× × ×

When they had entered the shop, there was a light buzz of voices around them, mainly university students, some sitting with laptops nursing coffees. When they entered, one of the tellers turned to call Osamu. Atsumu strode straight to the counter stools and plopped himself down, Sakusa hesitantly following him, shoulders hunched, hands dug into the deep pockets of his jacket. Sakusa always bought jackets a size too big, they allowed him to cower into them a little more, and the sleeves could be used to easily cover his hands when necessary. When he did this, as he was now, he looked smaller than the 6 foot 4 muscle toned athlete he was.

“It’s got a perfect hygiene rating and you have your disinfectants,” Atsumu mumbled over his shoulder at him.

“Yes but-”

“Why is there a rat in my restaurant,” Osamu greeted Atsumu, a knife in his hand as per usual. Atsumu swore he always had one on hand just for greeting him.

“Don’t say that too loudly, who knows who could hear you,” Atsumu tried to laugh it off but his eyes flickered to the man that was now standing behind the stool beside him.

“Oh!” Osamu exclaimed quietly after following his brothers gaze, “I didn’t mean an actual rat-”

“You meant Atsumu, I get that,” he deadpanned at the man across the counter whose smile widened considerably.

“Sakusa-san, it’s good to see you,” Osamu greeted, “you haven’t been here before have you?” When Sakusa shook his head, curls falling into his face, Osamu left to grab some menus.

“I don’t want to insult your brother,” Sakusa finished his earlier sentence.

“Oh, please do,” Atsumu laughed, “don’t worry he knows about the mysophobia, he won't be offended.” When he hesitated longer Atsumu sighed and put a hand out, “I’ll do it.”

× × ×

Atsumu had made a point of understanding the way Sakusa cleaned, and the little leniencies he had so he could adapt himself when necessary. The night before their first away game, he asked Meian if he had decided on the hotel rooms yet as they would be sharing in groups of two.

“Miya don’t think people haven’t complained about you too,” The older man sighed.

“No I- wait what?”

“What?” Meian repeated, his usual stern face now replaced with that of a cherub. Atsumu narrowed his eyes but didn’t have the time to try and figure out if he was serious or not, that could wait until later.

“No. I was going to ask you to put me with Sakusa, he’s been figitedy all week and I’ve a feeling it’s because of this. I have more of an understanding of him than most since we were in dorms together at training camps. I even asked his cousin what I might need to know.” Meian looked at him a moment, letting out a small extended ehhh, before telling him it would be fine.

Sakusa’s tells were almost imperceptible, but Atsumu had always made a point of being perceptive. His receives had been ever so slightly… off, more hesitant about not taking a knee or touching the floor. They still resulted in near perfect passes when possible, but they weren't Sakusa perfect. He spent longer in the showers after practices and seemed to have doubled the amount he sanitized his hands. It wasn’t until the night before his conversation with Meian that it clicked; he was anxious about staying in a strange hotel room with someone. Atsumu had pulled out his phone and searched Komori’s name to no avail. After a moment's thought, he turned to Twitter, knowing for a fact they followed each other, and sent him a simple message,

**Hey hope you’re well dude, I’m sharing a hotel room with your cousin in a few days, anything I should know so I’m not murdered in my sleep?**

He received a message pretty quickly saying

**He’s most likely to suffocate you, less mess.**

Atsumu chuckled at that because, yeah. A few minutes later his phone chimed with a longer message.

× × ×

Osamu’s only reaction to the two men steralizing his restaurant was, “You better not be planning a murder,” before picking up a napkin to hold the spray bottle and sprayed the laminated menus in his hands and wiped them down.

“Thanks, “ Sakusa said, “I’ll wait until we’re in an alley before I stab him.”

“Wow, I take you out for dinner and this is what I get,” a hand going to his chest as if he was in pain.

“You don’t pay,” Osamu stated at the same time as Sakusa said “You asked me if I needed to get my wallet before coming here.” They turned to each other and Atsumu swore he saw a little sparkle between them.

“How’s the rest of the team?” Osamu asked as he placed their food in front of them.

“Great! I think we should do well this year,” Atsumu mumbled around a mouthful of rice.

“I think Hinata’s a little anxious the last few weeks,” Sakusa stated after finishing his own mouthful of food.

“What?” Atsumu asked, a little stunned.

“Haven’t you noticed, he’s been quieter than usual, and not... moving as much.”

“Oh,” now that he had said it, Atsumu had seen it, he scowled a little more though because he should have noticed.

“I think he feels a little bad considering he’s had more game time than Barnes this year. I wanted to tell him not to worry and that he deserved the place but..” Both Atsumu and Osamu looked at him as a slight colour rose in his face, “...but I’m not very good at those things.” he finished lamely. Which means he had tried and fucked up.

“What did you say?” Atsumu asked, Osamu studying his face now.

“I told you-”

“Kiyoomi,” he dragged out the last syllables as Sakusa deflated a little bit.

“I’m not sure exactly what I said but um, it was along the lines of, eh, I told him he shouldn’t overthink it because, eh, it, em, he hasn’t had a good history with... thinking.” There was a pause before both twins started howling with laughter.

“And I thought Atsumu had no tact,” Osamu spluttered, while Saksua’s scowl deepened.

“Be careful Omi-kun, you’ll get wrinkles with all that scowling,” Atsumu laughed, doing so doubly when Sakusa shot him a side glare.

× × ×

“So, how did you know you were in love? How did it feel?” Atsumu felt nervous asking this, a slight wiggling in the pit of his stomach, unable to look at the man beside him who rolled his shoulders in an attempt to reset his posture. “I mean, you didn’t resonate with what I said, so, what is love to you Omi-kun?”

"I feel it as something…" he paused, deliberately thinking of the right words, his posture had stiffened ever so slightly. Atsumu opened his mouth to tell him he didn't have to answer if he wasn't comfortable when he continued, "softer." He sighed his whole body deflating, appearing like it was smaller that it had been a moment before, "I think it's akin to breathing. It's… it's not always something you can describe. It’s like if someone was to ask you to explain what is breathing, you could say 'the intake and expelling of air' but that's only the external process. There's more that happens on the inside, your diaphragm expands and contract, the oxygen is spread over the alveoli and absorbed into the bloodstream, so does circulation then become a part of breathing? Then if you were to describe how it feels, there's nothing you can compare it to because you don't know a time when you didn't have to breathe. It's… it's like when you notice you're breathing and that becomes all that you're aware of and then it eventually just, becomes part of the process. Then there are the times where breathing is really fucking hard, but just because it was hard at one point doesn't take away from the fact that you're still breathing. And when you push through it and gasp, after there's been a pain in your chest or you've stayed underwater for too long, all you can do is think, ‘this is the single greatest experience of my life,’ and you wonder how you ever took it for granted or didn't notice it, but it becomes part of you. It's something so natural yet so distinct because you still have to do something, unlike your hair or nails growing," he grew silent clearly thinking, "it's not something that's meant to destroy you but… you said you wanted to be consumed by him but why would you want that? Why would you want him to want that? Instead I consider it like, two peoples breathing syncing up. It's distinct and individual but working on the same wavelength." His lips pursed. "Did that even make sense?" He asked, shaking his head, looking slightly embarrassed.

× × ×

“I assume Sakusa’s not coming?” Adriah asked Bokuto about an hour into the party.

“No,” he scowled, “Apparently my ability to keep a cactus alive for three whole years isn’t reason enough to celebrate.” Bokuto made a face and waved his hands a little for emphasis while looking at said cactus wearing a mini party hat and glued on googly eyes. “I mean, this is me we’re talking about, I’ve kept a plant alive for three years!” The people around him chuckled.

“It’s a cactus Bokuto,” Akaashi drawled looking a little uncomfortable, pulling up the cloth draped over his chest “I got it for you because they’re so hard to kill.” This evoked another chuckle from the small gathering of people around them.

“I think the fact it’s a toga party didn’t help,” Atsumu mused, draped over an armchair and dropping a grape into his mouth. Bokuto had to be given some credit for committing to the theme. There were fake fern leaves scattered around the apartment and a spread of crackers, cheeses and grapes across all available surfaces. He had even bought some vine fairy lights which circled the room. Most importantly he’d managed to procure real laurel leaf wreaths for every single person's head. There weren’t more than 25 people in total, but still it was commendable dedication.

“Honestly I just really wanted to have him play Cards Against Humanity with us,” Adriah laughed. “He always comes out with the most unexpected responses and is so easily made uncomfortable all at once. It was an experience I cleared brain space for.” He joked.

“That must have been tough, surely there’s only space for the absolutely necessary in there,” Atsumu quipped.

“Exactly,” the other threw back, “that reminds me, whose willing to reteach me how to tie my laces later?”

“Atsumu go drag him out.” Inunaki demanded.

“What, why me?”

There was a funny look between Inunaki and Adriah, “Because you are literally the only person he would even consider listening too. Don’t let Adriah’s sacrifice all be for naught.”

“Fine but someone’s coming with me.”

No one came with him.

“No.” he heard from behind the door.

“Come on Omi! Everyone wants you there. Please, please at least let me inside, there’s an old woman staring at me from down the hall and it’s so cold in this hallway my nipple-” The door swung open, Sakusua’s face was a little red.

“I don’t need to know about your nipples just come in.” Twenty minutes later Bokuto was opening the door looking like someone had literally lit something inside him with a laurel wreath in his hand.

“I knew you’d come Sakusa!” He frowned, “You’re not supposed to be wearing a top under your toga.” His eyes flitted to Atsumu who threw up his hands, “You guys wanted him here and I got him here, compromises have to be made,” before pushing past Bokuto to grab another drink while Sakusa glowered before following Atsumu and pouring out his own drink.

Much to Adriah’s delight, Sakusa made his favourite winning play in Cards Against Humanity which went something like, ‘Here’s the church, here’s the steeple open it up and here’s all the _________’

“What dark brilliant bastard put this down," Adriah had said raising the winning card, "because that’s awful but you win the entire game!” and proceeded to squeal in delight as Sakusa slowly raised his had to chaotic roars of approval.

× × ×

"Huh, so you're a philosopher and a poet?' Atsuma smirked, bringing the glass to his mouth, trying to process the words, unsure of how to react, while not letting his eyes waver from Sakusa's face. Only to be met with… nothing. He scowled looking down at the now empty glass and sighed, putting it down on the bar and pushing it away from him.

"No. But part of me wishes it could go back and tell me to do psychiatry if I was going to become your personal therapist,' he levelled the older man with a look that could freeze souls, Atsumu thought, but luckily he didn’t have one.

"Cute. You'd do that for me Omi Omi?" Atsumu clasped his hands to his chest, batting his eyelids like a damsel for the second time that night. Sakusa knew better than to dignify that with a response.

"Y’know, I hate that you were so responsible with your actual major." Atsumu threw his hands in the air, "You're just so responsible come on couldn't you have gone wild and done, like, drama?"

"I actually did a literature module in first year. I liked to read and thought it might be an easy pass," a particular scowl animated Sakusa's face, "never again."

× × ×

Sakusa was one of the few members of the Black Jackals that had gone to university and gotten a degree and was actually somewhat responsible. This superiority could not be used as a way for Sakusa to be better than Atsumu, so he changed the narrative.

“So you went to university before becoming pro,” the interviewer asked Sukusa after one of his first pro games, “was that a tactical decision to allow yourself more options, or did you always know you’d play volleyball?” Sakusa’s mouth began to open in response before Atsumu chimed in, “Well considering his thesis was on the history of ice cream and the social implications of the soft serve, I’d say it was just a way to enjoy himself before having to follow the strict regime of professional athleticism.” Grin. Around him the other players huffed something between a sigh and a laugh. The interviewer paused.

“I.. is that true?” She asked slowly, obviously a little worried about how this would make her look on TV later.

“Yes well, ice cream serves to bolster the economies of a number of countries, particularly Italy with gelato as an almost cultual icon. Ice cream is one of those iconic items of mass consumption that has become synonymous with a number of social institutions and popular culture.” Atsumu swore he didn’t even bat an eyelid before spewing that absolute pile of bullshit. Unsurprisingly the team burst out in a raucous laughter and that particular question didn’t make the final cut onto TV that night. It then became Atsumu’s job to eventually trip up Sakusa. Once it was the ‘Fabrication of Three-Dimensional, Single-Crystalline Silicon Structures from Thin Films by Coupling Photolithography and a Self-Folding process Driven by Capillary Interactions’. (This one had taken Sakusa a couple of seconds and Atsumu thought he had him before “that one’s actually pretty easy if we consider each word individually, Atsumu care to help me?” Before he absolutely nailed exactly what the topic was. So simple big words wouldn’t work). Another time it was something about black holes that Atsumu had pulled out of a quick Google search just before the interview (“unfortunately I don’t have the necessary graphs and numbers on hand but,” and managed to spew something about black holes that Atsumu couldn’t tell you was right or wrong). Then finally, finally Atsumu managed to wiggle in the clincher. The topic that managed to make Sakusa pause, pause longer, open his mouth, once, twice, three times. All the while his forehead contorted into a myriad of expressions that simply read ‘disgusting’. Finally his face softened, he sighed and declared, “No, I did not study that.” Turn to Atsumu and say, “I give up. It has taken the whole season and you finally, finally win.” (Eventually compilations were posted on YouTube of all of these occurrences including the first that hadn’t made it onto TV)

× × ×

“What was it you said I studied that one time?”

“”We are but monkeys; why man should and would revert to throwing feces without capitalism.” Atsumu grinned his signature feces eating grin at that while Sakusa shivered slightly and they both chuckled at the memory. So the key had been the thought of people willing to touch shit to break Sakusa Kiyoomi, and honestly Atsumu was annoyed at himself for not thinking of that sooner.

“Yeah, well anyway that class on literature in my first year...,” his forehead crinkled a little, the two perpendicular moles above his right eye dancing, clearly containing a small laugh, “the system crashed as I was registering for classes and I ended up in a class on the expressions of female desire in contemporary science fiction.” There was a heartbeat before they were both throwing back their heads in laughter. It took a whole five minutes, tears streaming down his face, before Atsumu gained some semblance of composure.

“I’m sorry what?” And Sakusa grinned deviously at him. “Honestly I hope this isn’t one of your jokes because I need that to be true.”

“I honestly wish it wasn’t true, but it is,” he downed the last dregs of his own drink before adding, “unsurprisingly I almost failed.” And Atsumu was laughing, his shoulders ached from it, his eyes stung from the tears and his mouth hurt from smiling but it was a pure pain he never wanted to let go of.

“And yet you’re still hopeless with women. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen you speak to a female outside of work.” Atsumu mused.

“Yes well, women in general have never particularly interested me.” Sakusa was looking at the glass, swirling the singular drop left in it.

“Huh, why didn’t I ever know you were gay?”

“Cos I’m not.” Sakusa’s eyes were still on the drop.

“... bi?”

“Nope.”

“That makes sense since you said you’re not interested in women.” He paused considering it. Not particularly interested in women so not hetero, not gay or bi, but Atsumu knew from the odd thing said when Sakusa’s face had been coloured with alcohol on team nights out that he does have sexual desires, just not necessarily based on gender. “Demi?” Sakusa stretched his neck before a quick nod. “Y’know, that makes sense.”

“Whereas you are clearly bi,” Atsumu winked in affirmation. “-pedal sexual: attracted to everything that walks on two legs.”

“Oh Omi you hurt me, I'm not attracted to apes.”

“And yet you’re the first person to call yourself attractive.” This lifeless sarky bastard.

“I’m telling Samu you said he looks like an ape,” Atsumu puffed out a laugh.

“So you agree Osamu is just as attractive as you?”

“No I’m obviously better looking-”

“That doesn’t make sense after what you just said,” there was a twinkle in Sakusa’s eye now so Atsumu just pouted, he was never going to win this one instead,

“Why didn’t we ever talk about this before?” Sakusa’s face composed itself like someone had pressed reset. He seemed to be contemplating something a moment before turning to the bar to order two bottles of water. He handed one to Atsumu before simply stating,

“I don’t like the possibility of compromising myself.”

× × ×

Some words Osamu had groaned at him years ago came back to him, “No you’re not, you think you’re worried about your serves because they are something you can control. If you really were worried about them, you’d be messing up them and everything else in your game and complaining that something else was bothering you. There’s something else you're worried about that you’re trying to suppress with volleyball,” a memory that flowed directly into the next which occurred sometime after he and Sakusa had gone to Onigiri Miya together for the first time, and sometime before that disgraceful photo had reentered his life. Osamu was ranting to him on the phone about the problems with opening his new shop when he sighed and asked, “So, how’s the team doing?” Atsumu had laughed and explained in explicit detail Sakusa’s reaction to finding out Bokuto had begun a collection of ladybirds in a jar in his locker, how did Sakusa find out about the little collection? Because Bokuto managed to knock it from the 5ft shelf, shattering the glass jar they were in and then suddenly not. “He’s just as anal as ever and I think his spikes are getting nastier. Oh I think Hinata’s doing better too, even after Sakusa’s disastrous attempt to cheer him up,'' Atsumu had heard the smile in his own voice, one he put down to the thought of Hinata feeling better. Osamu just huffed out a ‘huh’ before calling him a jackass and changing the subject.

× × ×

Then there was a sudden jolting shift redefining Atsumu’s entire life in a fraction of a fraction of a millisecond. Like the earth hadn’t been sitting in its axis. Like the gentle click as the pressure is released in your bones. Like the final centre puzzle piece sliding into its designated spot. Like a light switch illuminating a room. Like all those things poets wrote about and musicians moan about. Like the riddle making sense. Like everything Atsumu never let himself acknowledge. With that shift, that click, that flick, that realization, that clarity, there was an understanding and that sick, sticky clump in his stomach burst. Not burst, because it hadn’t changed because Atsumu just understood it now. What had once seeped and squirmed now flowed and cascaded. It wasn’t sticky, it was magnetic, not forcing him to accept it but something that he fundamentally wanted. What had once seemed suffocating was now enveloping and comforting. What had once been a black that drowned the light, was now the black that existed to show the stars.

“Hey, Kiyoomi…” he paused, feeling eyes fixed on him ever so intently, “what’s the word for the thing that’s another thing that you’re talking about, not the thing you said but a different thing?” He looked over as Sakusa’s eyes raised heavenward, before focusing on him again.

“What?”

“Y’know, in literature. When you say one thing but mean another?”

“How the hell was I supposed to infer that from that mess of an explanation?” Sakusa groaned, rubbing the heel of his hand into his right eye. He was probably tired, both physically and of Atsumu. “A metaphor?” he offered.

Atsumu nodded and looked back at the liquor shelves in front of him.

“I think Shokun was a metaphor,” he felt the man beside him get ready to protest, “I don’t love him. I thought maybe I did, I convinced myself I did because you’re right, I knew he would never feel the same way and I could control that, not control but I knew the outcome.” Not only that, but if the purest, brightest, sweetest man he ever knew couldn’t get the man he loved, what hope did Atsumu ever have. “He was a cover I could use to hide behind.” Atsumu heaved a sigh and turned to look at Sakusa, whose dark, enveloping, shining eyes were gazing intently at him, the slightest dip in his right eyebrow, imperceptible to anyone else, but Atsumu knew his moles were ever so slightly lower than usual because this man was his axis, his light, his comfort, every other cliche ever created, and the singular HD object by which Atsumu had begun to define everything else around him.

He knew he never could have Hinata Shouyou, but that was easier than finding out he couldn’t have the man in front of him.

"I’m in love with you.”


	2. Sakusa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakusa Kiyoomi had often found himself in situations he didn't like or couldn't control, much to his displeasure. Not all of them turned out bad. Not all of them had any particular effect on him, and right now he was sitting beside the only person in the world that could make him go to a bar at 11pm when they had training the next morning. A man who was trying to come to terms with his feelings for another man. This was one of the more unpleasant situations he couldn’t control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After posting the last chapter, I realised I really wanted to do a Sakusa POV, so here we are

Sakusa Kiyoomi had often found himself in situations he didn't like or couldn't control, much to his displeasure. Not all of them turned out bad. Not all of them had any particular effect on him, and right now he was sitting beside the only person in the world that could make him go to a bar at 11pm when they had training the next morning. A man who was trying to come to terms with his feelings for another man. This was one of the more unpleasant situations he couldn’t control. He took a long pull from the glass of alcohol in front of him, hoping it might temporarily fill the sudden hollowness in his bones. 

× × ×

“Oho!” Shion hooted running to greet Atsumu as he walked into the changing room, “looks like someone had a dirty stop over last night!” and threw an arm around his shoulders.

Atsumu only managed to look a little sheepish as he glanced down at the same clothes he’d been wearing the day before. Sakusa could only watch as he shook off Shion’s arm and scratched the back of his head. Surprisingly their captain, Meian, remained quiet which confused Sakusa. Surely he shouldn’t be condoning this kind of behaviour, showing up late with tired eyes, considering they were (as much as they didn’t always seem like it) a professional sports team.

“I see you Sakusa,” the voice brought Sakusa out of his own head and he realized he was looking at Atsumu with a slight twist in his features, “don’t worry I have a change of practise gear in my locker.” He grinned then in a way that screamed, ‘this is nonchalance, nothing more!’  
Sakusa simply hmpfed and turned back to his own locker, putting away his personal effects and removing the mask from his face. Breathing deeply, he hoped to dispel the ache he felt along with the unnecessary carbon dioxide from his body.

“Hey Omi,” he called out after him as they were leaving and Sakusa took a steadying breath before turning and cocking an eyebrow at the bleached blonde man that was jogging towards him, stopping further away from Sakusa than usual. “Do you wanna maybe come to Osamu’s for food with me?” he asked it a little hesitantly, even though they often went to his brother’s restaurant for food. Sakusa had the intention of saying no, but seeing the particular look on Atsumu’s face, he knew he couldn’t.

“Hey,” Osamu greeted as they entered the shop, Atsumu holding the door open for Sakusa. Surprisingly, unlike every other time Sakusa had gone here with Atsumu, Osamu didn’t have a knife in his hand.

“Hey,” Atsumu said slumping into his usual seat and reflexively put out a hand to Sakusa for a cloth to help him disinfect the area, “have you heard anything?” he asked Osamu.

“Yeah, it’s all fine, she’s being discharged as we speak,” Osamu smiled gently. Sakusa paused in his cleaning for a moment to look between the two men.

“I, eh...” Atsumu started as Osamu was called over to the tills, “I ended up crashing at Osamu’s place last night… not anything else. Granny fell yesterday evening and had to go to the hospital and… I guess I wanted my brother’s company.” He finished, some pink rising in his cheeks as he finished wiping the counter, then snapped his head up. “Don’t tell him that though” he said, tilting his head to where Osamu was chatting to a customer.

Sakusa sat down on his freshly disinfected seat. That explained why Meian hadn’t said anything at training and promptly cut off any discussions about Atsumu’s night, but something still bugged Sakusa. “Why didn’t you borrow some of Osamu’s clothes, you’re about the same size right?” 

“Because wouldn’t it have been weirder if I’d shown up in someone else’s clothes?” He replied, asking like it was a rhetorical question. “And I dunno,” he shrugged a vulnerable look on his face now, “I didn’t feel like talking to everyone about it.”

“Atsumu, if the clothes had fit you okay, I don’t think anyone would have batted an eyelid at you wearing a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt they hadn’t seen before.” Atsumu’s face looked blank as this information processed for a few seconds before looking at the ceiling and groaning, “I’m an idiot,” just as Osamu returned.

“We know,” they said in unison and Atsumu groaned again. Ridiculously, as he watched the man bicker with his twin brother about just how much of an idiot he was, and how each of them were their parents' favourite, the only thought in his head was: _prettyprettyprettypretty_. A thought that had been invading his mind more and more with every moment they spent together. Which was absolutely ridiculous because this man was nothing but ridiculous, as he had proven on many, many occasions.

× × ×

"Hey Omi," a voice sang out, dragging out the "oh" of the pet name. He closed his eyes bracing himself for whatever was about to come next, "would you give me a hug." He swung round to see Miya Atsumu standing in the middle of the changing room with a larger sports bag than usual on the floor at his feet and hands behind his back.

"No." He didn’t add that he couldn't.

"What would it take for you to give me a hug?" His voice dripped like thick, melted chocolate off his tongue.

"Why Miya?" He asked while in the background Meian called out to the other man to 'shut up for once and leave Sakusa alone.'

"What if I showered like, 5 times?"

"No"

"Wore a face mask and everything?"

"Miya, you would have to be wearing a hazmat suit for me to hug you," Sakusa sighed, closing his eyes again. When he opened them this time, Atsumu's sickenly sweet, innocent smile had twisted into one of cockiness and self assurance.

"That right? Well it just so happens," he bent and started unzipping the large bag at his feet, "that I just happened to pick this up from that pop up costume shop across the road yesterday." And sure enough, this fully grown man pulled out an offensively bright yellow hazmat suit along with a black gas mask, and a rather large grin on his face.

"Ohhh" Bokuto cooed from somewhere in the background, "this is a game changer right here!" 

"The fuck is wrong with you?" Meian groaned and Atsumu wiggled his eyebrows at Sakusa who found himself laughing.

"Come near me with that thing that… God knows how many people have worn and touched and the only contact you'll get from me is when I break your nose."

"Omi Omi that's so violent!" Atsumu whined before dropping it back into his bag. "Worth every penny just to see that look on your face. Even if I didn't get a hug." Atsumu gleamed at him before picking up the bag and suit to change for training, narrowly avoiding being clipped with a back hand to the ear from Meian as he walked to his locker. Sukusa felt air fill his chest. _Breathebreathebreathe._

× × ×

Sakusa Kiyoomi always had a penchant for pretty things. Pretty seemed to correlate with clean in the same way clean correlated with pretty. It was in this vein that led him to hate feelings. They were messy and invasive and impure. He wished he could step cleanly out of them, removing them like a splinter from skin, and burning them so there was no way for them to infiltrate his system once again. That, of course, wasn’t possible. Instead he’d had to learn and adapt and cope, as he always had with every other part of his life. Fortunately he managed to eventually manifest a sterile air to his personality that usually killed any feelings another person could have towards him, effectively preventing himself from then developing such inklings. 

Once, there was another boy in elementary school, not that he liked him, but he also definitely didn't dislike him as much as the others. He never asked to borrow Sakusa’s colours, never tried too hard to make conversation with him, never attempted to touch him. 

Later he heard the kid complaining to his teacher about having to sit beside Sakusa, “He’s so weird,” he had whined, “I don’t like him, can I please sit somewhere else.” 

_Huh_ , little Sakusa thought, _So he just didn’t try those things because he disliked me_ and there was a slight, strange twinge in his heart as he realised, _I really have no friends._

× × ×

Sakusa didn’t make friends easily. Didn’t really make friends at all. Any and all friendships he’d experienced up until now had come about from a natural progression through which he had no control. This should have bothered Sakusa because he liked control. 

There was a girl in that one literature class in his first semester of university. Unsurprisingly, he was one of only three boys in the class, and he wondered idly if they were in the same situation as him; that the server had crashed and this was one of the only classes that still had space, or the only one in Sakusa’s case. He wished he had the ability to skip the class like they did 90% of the time, but he disliked leaving gaps, leaving things incomplete. He hadn’t noticed her at first, but after a couple of weeks, he noticed she always sat a seat away from him. After class one day she called his name as he picked up his bag to leave. He turned to look at her.

“I, um, I was wo-wndering,” she stuttered and he just continued to watch her face, “if you maybe wanted to study together, this next assignment is a-”

“No.” he cut her off. She blinked a few times at him.

“Oh, I mean, you don’t have to be so rude.” He looked at her steadily. He wasn’t purposefully trying to be rude. He just preferred to study alone and didn’t want to waste her time. He knew he hated it when others did it to him.

“We aren’t friends,” he said, trying to pacify her a little.

“What is wrong with you?” she asked then, “I only asked to be nice since every time I see you you’re always alone.” She waved her hand in the air and muttered a ‘whatever’. She didn’t try to sit near him again. 

× × ×

“Kiyoomi!” The voice, like the personality, filled the entire gym. It was only his second time at the all Japan training camp and his third time meeting the boy, but he couldn’t have forgotten that voice even if he lobotomised himself. He knew coming into this he was probably going to encounter Miya Atsumu again, but the thought and the reality were different in the same way talking about running a marathon and actually running one were different.

“‘Mere and let me set for you Kiyoomi-”

“No.” Sakusa cut him off scowling, “Don’t call me that, we’re not friends.” 

Atsumu blinked and laughed a chuckle, “No you’re right, we’re besties Omi Omi, now get that sour face over here.”

× × ×

“Don’t murder me with a look but,” Meian started as Sakusa arrived at the gym where they were meeting before going to Sendai for his first official match as part of the MSBY Black Jackals, “you’ll be rooming with Miya.” 

Sakusa was ready to retort when Meian held up a hand, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Miya can be… a massive idiot and a pain in the ass but,” he paused a second, “he is a considerate person. He even said something about talking to your cousin before rooming with you. I don’t think you need to worry,” and the soft look on his face actually reassured Sakusa in a way that none of Sakusa’s own attempts had. 

He knew how people often felt about his personality and reacted to his compulsions to clean and insistence on not being close to him, he was far from an idiot. Few people, though, took the time to learn how to help Sakusa and accommodate him. Usually it felt like anything done by others was simply to stop Sakusa from being annoyed at them. Done entirely for themselves. Miya’s actions were different as he proved time and time again in the way he had started carrying disinfectant wipes with him. In the way he helped him clean if they ever went out for food or drinks or shared hotel rooms. In the way he had explained to the bartender tonight how exactly to pour his drinks and serve him. These considerations and actions filled his chest and made Sakusa think: _prettyprettyprettyprettyprettypretty._

× × ×

“So,” Atsumu was saying now, shifting slightly on the bar stool, “how did you know you were in love? How did it feel?” Sakusa felt the air leave his lungs as he watched the man beside him, “I mean, you didn’t resonate with what I said, so, what is love to you Omi-kun?” 

Everything Sakusa had ever felt for this man hummed through his system. The way he always wanted to be there for him. The way it hurt to watch when he was reckless and hurting himself. The way he instantly felt at ease when Miya teased him. The way he was the only person that could evoke these feelings in him. Most importantly was the way everything felt so easy with Atsumu. Here he was with him after being told he might love another man, and all Sakusa could do was feel like this was where he belonged. 

He could sense that Atsumu was going to tell him it was okay, that he didn’t have to explain it. Thouh it was a bit of a contradiction, Sakusa found that he wanted to tell him, if not just in the hopes that Atsumu might understand and learn that love is not hurt.

× × ×

 _How am I doing this?_ Sakusa thought to himself numerous times during the conversation. _How am I sitting here laughing and joking while the man I love may be about to fall apart?_

When asked why they had avoided these such discussions up until now Sakusa had to collect his thoughts. Turning to the bartender, he ordered them each a bottle of water, they’d have to leave soon. There were so many reasons not to talk about it and most specifically it was because doing so might ruin the beautiful, intricate facade Sakusa had created through which he could admire and exist in Miya Atsumu’s life. Sakusa liked perfection and he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t ruin himself and Atsumu at the same time. Sakusa liked control and didn’t want to expose himself like this. 

“I don’t like the possibility of compromising myself.” 

× × ×

Sakusa had come to the conclusion long ago that Miya Atsumu was not, is not, and could not be his. They were too different. Atsumu was a free soul. He laughed easily and talked often. Where Sakusa drew lines, Atsumu erased them. Sakusa liked pretty things and pretty things were to be admired, not to be used. Sakusa knew that his messy feelings could corrupt the beautiful thing they had, and he couldn’t imagine not even having this small sliver of happiness generated through the relationship they had. He knew how people felt about him, and by extension, he knew that he was one of those fated to admire from afar, because he was impurity personified. Reaching out now and touching this man while he was fragile would be the air pocket in a small piece of pottery that destroyed every other object in the kiln. More importantly, having Atsumu find out and not reciprocate his feelings would destroy everything he had cultivated to protect himself. 

× × ×

One of the misconceptions about Sakusa was that he hated and could not abide by any and all touch. This wasn’t entirely true. Sakusa hated when other people touched him unless he wanted it, which was pretty much never. He also did not have a problem with being the one to initiate touch, though these instances were scarce and also not often wanted. He preferred to keep his distance and not be touched as a general rule because it was easier. But he was still human and sometimes he wanted to be touched by some people.

It was because of this want _wantwantwantwant_ that he didn’t think when he smacked Atsumu across the back of the head near the end of a particularly gruelling game, while the rest of his team mates looked at him a little stunned. 

Volleyball in general was the exception to the rule because he knew any touch initiated during a game was for the game, and he wanted to play the game. That noted, he still avoided unnecessary high fives and back slaps. 

No one said anything to him about touching Atsumu, probably putting it down to the heat of the moment but truthfully, Sakusa had been waiting for the chance. He had been waiting for the briefest moment and the briefest touch so that he was not compromised.

× × ×

He’d begun to notice Atsumu’s hands one day, a thought that annoyed him at the beginning. He had only just come to accept that yes, he actually enjoyed Atsumu’s company, and now he had become transfixed with his hands and how much he needed to touch and be touched by them. Equally annoying was that they were not pretty. His fingers were thick and strong, hands calloused from years of weight training and sports, and Sakusa could see the veins pushing at the surface of his skin when the very same large, strong, calloused hands clenched into fist or wrapped around around something, enveloping. Yet something tugged at his throat leaving him a little short for breath when he watched them for too long. Not long after Sakusa had begun to fixate on his hands, he found himself fixating on his arms, his thighs, and the stretches of skin that flashed whenever Atsumu jumped or used his jersey to wipe his face in the middle of a set. Sakusa’s eyes followed every flick and flash of new skin. He noticed the most minuscule of movements and ripples in his body and would imagine reaching out and feeling the slight give of skin and the movement of solid muscle beneath it. Then there was the thought of all that skin he still hadn’t seen, and he had seen a lot of Atsumu’s skin through a miture of matches, training sessions and in locker rooms. 

Then there was his mouth. Sakusa found himself thinking of Atsumu’s mouth at the most inconvenient times, most specifically as he stood under the hot spray of water in the shower. He imagined the heat of it, the dampness, the plump force of his lips on Sakusa’s own, moving down and over his own body, specifically the areas that Atsumu couldn’t and hadn’t seen.

× × ×

Bokuto had made flyers that he handed out after training one day with a picture of his cactus on them. “It’s Prick’s third birthday, I expect you all to be there.” He’d said the last bit pointedly looking at Sakusa as he handed him a flyer. The cactus, Prick, had been photoshopped into a toga with the Coliseum in the background and Sakusa scowled. “Toga’s are not optional,” Bokuto turned back to the whole room, “they are mandatory. Spare bed sheets will be on hand for anyone that ‘forgets.’”

Sakusa wasn’t going. The thought of a party in their small studio apartments was enough to turn him off the idea. The amount of bare skin that would be surrounding him in such close contact with his own made him shiver. 

Atsumu would be there. _Shirtless._

He frowned and mentally swatted the dangerous image from his head and decided he had made the right decision. He did not need to see Atsumu’s chest, his arms, the thick tendons of his neck. He did not. Instead, he needed to stay here where he couldn’t stare at his teammate’s body and think about running his fingers along his collarbones, splaying his hands over his chest, feeling the weight of him as he straddled Sakusa’s own legs, or the other way around. He did not need to think about those things in a party where Atsumu would be shirtless, covered only with a bedsheet because Sakusa thought about them enough as it was. _Wantwantwantwant._

He’d settled down with a cup of tea and a book when there was a loud knock at his door. Looking out the peephole, Sakusa couldn’t decide whether this manifestation was proof of a god or a devil. Atsumu was standing on the other side with a white bed sheet fashioned into a toga, his bare chest looking ever slightly more tanned in contrast to the stark white. His hair was tousled and around his head was a wreath of leaves. There was no god in heaven, only the one on the opposite side of his apartment door. 

“No.” he called back with what he hoped was finality.

“Come on Omi!” he called back grinning. “Everyone wants you there. Please, please at least let me inside, there’s an old woman staring at me from down the hall and it’s so cold in this hallway my nipple-” Sakusa felt himself blushing at the mention of nipples and swung the door open to a very chuffed, chuckling Atsumu. 

The eventual compromise was that Sakusa could wear a long-sleeved top underneath his own white bedsheet. Atsumu helped him with putting it on. He took his time, careful not to let himself touch Sakusa. _Touchmetouchmetouchmetouchmetouchmetouchmetouchmetouchmetouchmetouchmetouchmetouchme._

After a full 5 minutes of work (every second of which Sakusa strained against his own body, which he usually could control so well, to stop himself from reaching out) he stepped back and looked Sakusa up and down grinning. 

At the end of the night, in the elevator up to their respective floors, Sakusa was feeling slightly buzzed yet still alert of everything he was doing. Then Atsumu looked at Sakusa and laughed, “You look too good in that!” nodding towards the leaf wreath Bokuto had dropped on his head at some point and Sakusa had secured, knowing he wouldn’t get away with compromising on this too. “You look like you belong in a Grecian painting. It’s the hair.” Atsumu was drunk, not that he was above making comments on people’s appearances when sober, but as a courtesy to Sakusa, he tended to avoid it. “It’s pretty.” _Prettyprettyprettyprettyprettyprettyprettyprettyprettyprettyprettypretty._

× × ×

"I'm in love with you." Atsumu had been rambling when Sakusa felt his mouth moving. Felt the brush of his breath over his lips. Felt the reverberations in his throat. Each aspect of saying these words felt entirely individual but there was no denying what he’d just said. Both men remained quiet, both seemingly not breathing.

Atsumu’s face slowly started to break from the stunned expression of a mere second ago into a smile so full of joy that Sakusa could happily go blind looking at. “You just stole my line.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Dissertation? What dissertation? Who's that? I am what one may call a _disaster_~~
> 
> It's late as I post this so if there are any mistakes please let me know so I may fix them :)


End file.
